


bedtime

by sabinelagrande



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25216747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Anathema can't get to sleep, and Newt has some ideas on the subject.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations





	bedtime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mizface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/gifts).



> An auction fic for mizface, who has been wonderfully patient in the time it took me to write this. Hope you enjoy!

Anathema wasn't quite asleep, but it would have been hard for someone else to tell. It was easy for Newt; he'd been sleeping next to her for some time now, and he knew well that it sometimes took her ages to finally fall asleep. It did something to him, knowing she was going to be there, alone in the dark, while he just slept, uninterrupted.

But he did have some thoughts.

He climbed into bed next to her; he didn't hesitate to get close to her, resting his hand on her stomach. "Are you awake?" he said, which was largely a formality.

"That depends on what you want," Anathema said, not opening her eyes.

"I want what you want," Newt said, an article of faith. "I have a proposition for you."

She still didn't open her eyes, but one of her brows raised. "Are you propositioning me?"

"Um," Newt said. "Yes, actually." Anathema managed to convey complete skepticism with her eyes shut, which was both a feat and absolutely something she would do. His finger toyed with the edge of her camisole. "I just thought maybe it might be easier for you to fall asleep-"

"If you tired me out?" Anathema said.

"I wasn't going to say it like that," he said. "I just want you to get some rest. I thought it might help."

She opened her eyes, and he was relieved to find that she looked fond instead of annoyed; he couldn't tell the difference between her looking fond because she thought he was adorable or because she thought he was an idiot, but he'd take it either way. "Okay, then," she said, wiggling a bit like she was getting comfortable. "But I'm not doing any work at all."

"Leave it to me," Newt said. "May I pull back the covers?"

"Such a gentleman," Anathema teased.

"I just don't want you to get cold," he said.

She put a hand on his cheek. "You need to learn to calm down."

"If it hasn't happened by now," he said, though he did pull back the covers.

Anathema always felt small underneath him, but that was because he was too big, too ungainly. Anathema was perfect in every particular, and it was ridiculous that he'd been given any chance with her at all. He was going to live up to it or die trying.

Her skin was warm as he ran his hand up her stomach, taking her camisole with it; he guided it up over her breasts, her nipples hardening in the slightly cool air of the bedroom. He avoided them at first, kissing her sternum, the hinge of her jaw, all the appealing spots that got overlooked in the rush for more obvious points.

"You're very thorough, aren't you," Anathema said, in a tone of voice that only seemed to come out when it was like this, one that tasted like honey.

"Yes, ma'am," Newt said. They'd never even discussed that particular appellation; suddenly it just came out, and it had felt so right that it had stayed.

"Show me how thorough you can be," Anathema said, arching towards him.

Newt couldn't help but go where he was led; he took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking gently, and Anathema sighed. He took his other breast into his hand, his palm sliding across her nipple, and she pressed up into it. Her breasts were perfect, and that he was allowed to do anything with them was a miracle. He couldn't imagine doing anything except giving her everything she needed, proving how much reverence he had for her.

"Good boy," Anathema said, stroking his hair, and Newt moaned against her skin. It was another thing they hadn't talked about, but he'd made it pretty obvious how much he loved it when she called him that. "So concerned. So sweet."

Newt switched sides, kissing and sucking the sensitive underside of her breast before putting his mouth around her nipple. It only made it better that Anathema kept running her hand through his hair, only made him want to work harder to please her, to be worthy of any bit of kindness that she might show him.

He would have admitted that his patience was long but not perfect. He finally moved his hands to her waist; they looked big against her body, but he didn't stop to consider it for too long. He kissed down the center of her stomach, lingering on it, trying to show that he held such high regard for every part of her.

"Keep going," Anathema said breathily, and she brought her knees up, lifting her legs so she could get her panties off and drop them beside the bed. She put her feet on either side of his body, and that he didn't pounce on her was a miracle.

Instead he moved down the bed, getting comfortable. She was spread out in front of him, and it was miraculous, improbable that he got to do this, that he got to _worship_ someone like this, even though he'd never have been able to admit that that's what it felt like, lowering himself in front of someone who might as well have been a deity.

Anathema groaned as he started to lick her, her hand finding the back of his head again and holding him steady. "That's it," she said. "What a good boy, so good for me."

Newt made a desperate sound; that's how he felt, desperate to please, desperate to make her understand how much she meant to him. He redoubled his efforts, trying to make it as good as possible. It wasn't a hardship, not when she was open and wet for him, when she tasted so intoxicating. He didn't have any experience before her and didn't really want any experience after her, but he didn't need any points of comparison to know that she was perfect.

He slid two fingers inside of her, rocking them in and out, and she moaned, her hand going tight in his hair. That meant he was doing well, as much as anything verbal, and he'd take it. She was getting closer now, and he tried to do everything he could to help her along, make her lose control, give her what she deserved.

"Fuck," she said, voice shaky. "That's so good, love, keep going, make me come."

He moved his fingers faster, wanting nothing in the world more than to do it, to prove to her how amazing she was, how much he wanted her, what he'd do for her. He'd have done anything; he'd go to the ends of the earth for her if she asked. In comparison, this was a pretty easy job, but he took it just as seriously, revered it just as much.

She was so close; it was only going to take a little bit more, just a final push to bring her over. Newt didn't let up for an instant, doing everything he could to make her feel as good as possible, pulling out everything he'd learned that she loved. She arched up, gasping, and he felt the most overwhelming sense of satisfaction as he felt her body contract around his fingers. It was almost like coming himself, but it was a floating feeling, something different yet incredibly fulfilling.

He kept going, drawing it out, but finally Anathema pushed him back. "Get up here," she said, looking pleased and hazy. Newt lay down at her side, and she rolled towards him, kissing him sweetly. It took him by surprise when she grabbed him through his sleep pants. "What do we do about this?"

"I thought you didn't want to do any work," Newt said, though it came out a little strangled.

"Maybe I could be convinced," Anathema said.

"Honestly, all it would take at this point is your hand, and not a lot of it," he said, wincing.

She smiled, kissing him. "Then let me take care of you," she said, pushing his pants down. "My good boy."

He groaned as she wrapped her hand around him; he'd gotten much more worked up than he thought. "It's really not going to take a lot," he said.

"You worry so much," she said, stroking him quickly; he was going to lose it at any moment. "I've got you. You're my good boy. You don't have to be anything else."

Newt came with a groan, finishing mostly on his t-shirt. Anathema stroked him until he was well and truly finished, boneless on the bed. "I hope that was okay," he said.

She kissed him on the tip of his nose. "It was perfect." She barely got her hand over her mouth before she let out a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Maybe my plan wasn't so bad after all," Newt said, pulling up the covers and feeling a bit pleased with himself.

"Take your shirt off, it's gross," Anathema said. "I'm not cuddling with you like that."

"Oh, right," he said, and he pulled it over his head and tossed it away, tucking himself back in his pants for good measure. She had smoothed down her top, but made no move to do more, leaving her bottomless.

Newt was not discounting the possibility that this had ramifications for the next morning.

Anathema cuddled in next to him, and Newt put his arms around her, holding her close. He put his chin on the top of her head, and she sighed. And wonder beyond all wonders, he felt her breathing level out, her form going lax next to him.

He couldn't help but be a little pleased with himself. It wasn't every day that a plan came together, but lately, they always involved Anathema. He had no qualms about that at all.

He drifted off to sleep like that, feeling, for once, completely secure, completely centered. It felt so unnaturally natural that he didn't even think to question it, barely even realized how good he felt. He just let sleep overtake them, leaving the two of them slumbering quietly together.

And that wasn't a miracle, but it really was a miracle.


End file.
